


Assassination

by StarCrossedRebel



Category: star wars the last jedi
Genre: Hate to Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2020-05-07 13:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19210486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCrossedRebel/pseuds/StarCrossedRebel
Summary: I have a pretty rough idea of what I want this story to be, but this is just kind of like the pilot chapter to see where things go. I'm thinking it's going to be a multi-chapter story wherein Hux colludes with a faction of traitors in the First Order to usurp Ren. Of course things go wrong and Hux is pulled away from his goals because of all of the special missions Ren now has him going on. And along the way, Hux gets to know Ren a little better. And you know, "things" develop between them. Yeah, sorry about how vague this is. Just know I'll do my best :)





	1. Chapter 1

“To your very good health, General.”

  
Hux scoffed as he clinked his glass against his companion’s, acutely aware of the pain radiating down his spine. “To my very improbable lifespan,” he amended, and took a shallow sip of whiskey. It burned a trail of fire down his throat. “And to what I hope to be a quick and humorless death.”

  
Hux was currently seated in the officer’s lounge of the Finalizer, what he considered to be the crowning jewel of the ship. The floor and walls were made of sleek black glass, seamlessly fused together. Intricate crystal chandeliers imported from Canto Bight were suspended from the ceiling at different lengths; they suffused the room with a low, comfortable light. Soft leather chairs were clustered around luncheon tables. Spanning the entirety of the back wall was an extensively stocked bar where you could get a real drink, not just the watered down piss they sold on backwater planets. It was a small bit of luxury floating in the vastness of space.

  
“Don’t pretend with me, Armitage. I can see it in your eyes.”

  
Hux cocked his head at his companion, Cellyk Renzo, a fellow general of the First Order, and frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

  
Cellyk smirked and leaned forward in his chair conspiratorially, bringing his face closer to Hux’s. They had been drinking for awhile now, trying to drown out the disastrous events of the day. Cellyk smelled strongly of alcohol; his breath was hot against Hux’s cheek.

  
“You won’t let things end here,” Cellyk said. “It’s not in your nature to give up, it goes against every bone in your body. That fatal machinery in your head is ticking away. I can see it. You’ll come up with a plan. You always do. You just need a little time.”

  
Hux sighed and leaned his head back against his chair. The substantial amount of whiskey poisoning his bloodstream made his thoughts feel fuzzy. Snoke’s murder, Ren’s ascendency to power, the Resistance’s escape—they were but distorted images, mere impressions of actual events blurring together in his mind.

  
“What you speak of is treason,” Hux said. “A dangerous topic to broach, especially when your Supreme Leader can read minds.”

  
Cellyk blinked. “Treason?” He barked a laugh. “Since when is protecting the interests and integrity of the First Order treason? The Order that you, might I remind you, spent a lifetime building. The stormtrooper program, the newly designed fleet of star destroyers, the advancements in weaponry—all of it was you. Are you really going to let three decades of work be squandered by him?”

  
Hux scowled at Cellyk. “I realize it’s not ideal—”

  
“Not ideal?” Cellyk cut in. He took a sip of his whiskey and shifted restlessly in his seat. “Armitage, listen to me, there is no ideal solution here. You have a responsibility to lead the First Order to victory. That means eliminating those who pose a threat to our success, does it not?”

  
Hux stared into his glass as he swirled the amber liquid around.“I came here to forget my problems, Cellyk,” he said, bringing his glass to his lips.“I didn’t expect to be confronted by them in the form of a friend.” He tipped his glass back and swallowed its contents in a single, burning gulp.

  
“Since when did you start hiding from your problems in the bottom of a bottle?” Cellyk asked.

  
Cellyk’s words carried a bite, but their sting was lost on Hux. It wasn’t just the alcohol numbing him, it was the profound sense of hopelessness that had settled over his shoulders. “I’ve worked out every feasible option in my head,” he said. “Ren may be the biggest idiot the universe has ever seen, but he’s powerful. Too powerful. Even if we managed to get the jump on him, he can manipulate matter with his mind. I’ve seen him stop blaster bolts in the air.”

  
“But,” Cellyk said, pointing a meaningful finger at Hux, “have you seen him stop a thousand blaster bolts in the air?”

  
Hux rolled his eyes. “Your plan is to corner Kylo Ren and shoot at him a bunch of times and just hope that he can’t stop them all?”

  
Cellyk slumped back in his chair. “Well, not exactly. Though it would take just one lucky shot.”

  
Hux snorted. “We’re military men, we don’t believe in luck; we believe in a good strategy.”

  
“So use that impressive brain of yours,” Cellyk said. “It’s like you said: you’re up against the biggest idiot the universe has ever seen. You’ve found your edge. You just have to outsmart him.”  
“I don’t think I’m going to take down Kylo Ren with my multiplication tables,” Hux said.

  
“Who said anything about multiplication tables?” Cellyk asked. “I’m obviously talking about your above average spelling capabilities.”

  
Hux couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculous man sitting across from him, even as he grew tired of the conversation. Cellyk was an old fixture in Hux’s life. They had gone through the Academy together and rose through the ranks in tandem. They were in constant competition with each other, but that didn’t stop them from developing a close friendship. A very close friendship. Military life was stressful, and they had found a healthy way to relieve that stress together.

  
“You’re a genius, Cellyk,” Hux said. “I’ll challenge the Supreme Leader to a spelling bee. And if he loses, he has to be a good sport and vacate his role as the most powerful man in the universe.”

  
“Easy,” Cellyk said, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. He raised his glass slightly and said, “To General Hux, the only man I know who can spell floccinaucinihilipilification off the top of his head.”

  
Hux refilled his glass and joined Cellyk’s toast. “To General Renzo, the only man I know who can be educated by the most esteemed academy in the galaxy and still come up with such a stupid plan.”

  
They clinked glasses and drank.

  
Hux sank back into the cushion of his chair and let his eyes roam over the lounge. He and Cellyk were the only two people out. Everyone else was either on duty or hiding in the barracks. No one seemed too eager to be caught dallying by the new Supreme Leader.

  
“You’ll work something out. I’m confident. You just need a little inspiration.”

  
Hux brought his attention back to Cellyk. Apparently, he was still on the topic of treason.

  
“What I need,” Hux said, “is a decent night’s rest.”

  
The corner of Cellyk’s mouth curled up into a devilish smirk. “Seems like you might need some help destressing first.”

  
Heat unfurled in the pit of Hux’s stomach at the prospect. It sent a shiver of want down his spine. This is what he needed. “Are you offering your assistance?”

  
Cellyk shrugged his shoulders in feigned disinterest. “I might be. Why? Are you offering your ass?”

  
Hux laughed despite himself at Cellyk’s antics. It felt good to laugh; it opened up a valve, relieving some of the pressure building in his chest. “I don’t know,” Hux began playfully. “I’m a busy man these days. Are you sure you can make it worth my time?”

  
Cellyk’s eyes flashed in the low light. His voice was husky when he said, “I’ll make it worth your time.”

  
Hux tipped his head to the side, pretending to consider Cellyk’s offer. Of course he would accept it, but he liked goading Cellyk—it made for a more interesting evening. “I might need a demonstration of your abilities,” Hux said, “before I agree to anything.”

  
A predatory grin slowly spread its way across Cellyk’s face. “Very well,” he said, setting his glass down on the table.

  
Cellyk sank to his knees and crawled to Hux’s chair. The sight alone got Hux hard; he buzzed with anticipation. When Cellyk reached Hux’s feet, he gripped Hux’s ankles with both of his hands and slowly brought his hands up. When he reached Hux’s knees, Cellyk spread them apart. He shuffled forward, fitting himself between Hux’s legs. Making sure to maintain eye contact, he pulled the zipper of Hux’s pants down, revealing a pair of black boxers. Hux lifted his hips, and Cellyk pulled his pants and boxers down enough to release Hux’s straining cock.

  
What Hux appreciated most about Cellyk was his efficiency in all tasks. He didn’t tease Hux with aggravating kitten licks or puffs of hot air; he took the fat tip of Hux’s cock into his mouth and brought his head down, enveloping Hux’s cock in a tight, warm heat that had Hux melting into his chair. Cellyk wasted no time. He began sucking Hux off in earnest right away, taking his cock all the way to the hilt and working it expertly with his tongue. Hux’s body tensed in pleasure, and he let his eyes slip closed, more than content to be swept away by the tidal wave of endorphins that flooded his system.

  
“Sir?” Mitaka’s voice crackled over Hux’s comm.

  
Cellyk’s movements stopped, and Hux groaned. He grabbed his comm and switched it on. “What?” he barked. He nudged Cellyk with his knee to signal that he should keep going.

  
“Sorry for bothering you—”

  
“Just tell me what’s wrong, Mitaka,” Hux said between his teeth, trying to keep his voice even as Cellyk picked up his speed.

  
“Sir, I thought I should inform you that Supreme Leader Ren is on route to your location.”

  
Hux immediately straightened up in his chair. Cellyk pulled off entirely. “What?” Hux yelled. “What the bloody hell for?”

  
“I don’t know, sir,” Mitaka said, his voice shrinking. “He just stormed onto the bridge and demanded your location.”

  
“And you just gave it to him?” Hux knew he wasn’t being fair. Mitaka had more reason than most to fear Ren. He had been Ren’s favorite subordinate to terrorize for the past five years; the poor man had been Force choked enough times to deserve a medal.

  
“I’m sorry, sir,” Mitaka said. “But he’s the Supreme Leader now, and I can’t—”

  
Hux cut in. “I know, Mitaka.” He sighed and threw his head back. “I know.” He looked down at Cellyk, still poised between his legs. “Thank you for informing me.” He turned off his comm and threw it on the table.

  
“Well,” Cellyk said, “now’s your chance to challenge him to a spelling bee.”

  
Hux felt like breaking something, the tension inside him now wound to the point of snapping. It didn’t help that his dick was still hard.

  
“You better leave before he gets here,” Hux said. “He has a bit of a temper.”

  
Cellyk stood up and stretched. Hux caught sight of the bulge straining the front of his pants and groaned. Cellyk chuckled. “Don’t worry, if he doesn’t kill you, this is all yours later.”

  
Cellyk winked and picked up his glass. He strolled out of the room whistling a happy tune. Hux watched him leave longingly, the desire for release quickly subsiding into frustration. Maybe a thousand blasters wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  
Hux tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his pants. He poured himself a tall glass of whiskey and began sipping it as he waited for Ren to make his grand entrance.

  
He didn’t have to wait long.

  
The doors to the lounge were automatic; they opened whenever the sensor picked up movement up to a five foot radius. Even still, Ren felt the need to rip them apart with the Force. His presence was announced by the sound of metal being dragged across metal. Hux’s eardrums prickled as a high pitched screech rented the air.  
Ren stormed into the room like a raincloud, black robes swirling around him like an eddie. His face was twisted into an ugly snarl. “So this is what I pay you for?” he demanded. “To sit around and drink whiskey while the Resistance gets away?”

  
Hux remained seated in his chair, even as the first pinpricks of anger heated his skin. He would remain calm in the face of Ren’s rage, not because he was above yelling or because he thought it would help calm Ren down—just the opposite in fact. Hux’s apparent indifference would only work Ren up more, and that’s exactly what he wanted. He would treat Ren like a child until the younger man broke down with frustration. It was a dangerous game, one that could very easily end in his death, but Hux was far beyond the point of caring. He would take every petty victory that he could.  
“I am not the one who let the Resistance get away,” Hux said. He took a sip of whiskey. “Also, you don’t pay me.”

  
Ren waved his hand through the air. Hux’s glass shot out of his hand and collided against the wall. “I let you live, General,” he said. “You should be grateful. If I come to find that my decision was a mistake, I will amend it, rest assured.”

  
“Oh, believe me, Supreme Leader, I am grateful,” Hux said. “I’m grateful that Snoke was murdered and that the Supremacy was destroyed and that the Resistance has escaped. Again. How ever did you manage to achieve so much in so little time?”

  
An animalistic growl left Ren’s lips. He raised a gloved fist. Hux felt his throat constrict.

  
“If you have to use fear to make your subordinates fall in line,” Hux said tightly, “then it’s not true respect. It’s just a form of self-preservation until someone else comes along and usurps you.”

  
Ren squeezed his fist. Hux’s air flow was cut off completely. His throat strained against the invisible pressure; his heart picked up speed, beating against the involuntary panic rising in his chest.

  
“Are you threatening me, General?” Ren asked darkly, drawing closer to Hux. “Do you feel as if you’re in a position to threaten me? You’re a cog in a machine. You’re disposable. It would take me no more effort to kill you than it would to kill a fly.”

  
Hux’s lungs were starting to burn. His face was hot. The vein in his neck was throbbing. He glared at Ren, hatred welling up. “Then. Do. It,” he managed to croak. He was tired of Ren’s empty threats.

  
Ren’s eyes were wild and dark. The air around him pulsed with manic energy. “Do you have such little regard for your own life?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His entire body was vibrating. “You’re less of a coward than I thought.”

  
Hux coughed as Ren released his Force hold, his throat raw and sore. Before he could think better of it, he spoke. “You’re the real coward. Can’t even kill me, even when the odds are stacked entirely in your favor. No wonder the Resistance got away.”

  
Hux was blasted off his feet. He hit the wall of the lounge, hard. The black glass cracked from the impact. Pain exploded in Hux’s back. He hit the ground, face first, smashing his nose in. He felt it break; blood immediately began pooling on the floor. His vision went black around the edges.

  
“You’d think,” Hux heard Ren say, “that after all of these years grovelling at Snoke’s feet, you’d know something about self preservation.”

  
The sound of Ren’s heavy footfall drew closer. Hux spit a mouthful of blood out; it splattered against the dark floor and sparkled in the light. Breathing through the pain, he forced himself onto his hands and knees. An intense wave of pain traveled down his spine. He swayed, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

  
“What? Nothing to say?” Ren asked cruelly. “No witty retort?”

  
Hux drew in a ragged breath. “I’d rather die at your hands than pretend that I hold a modicum of respect for you.”

  
Ren activated his lightsaber. It buzzed quietly next to Hux’s head, spitting plasma. “I’m almost disappointed,” Ren said. “I expected more of a fight from you.”

  
Hux grit his teeth and pushed up onto his knees. The pain was nearly overwhelming; his eyes blurred with involuntary tears. He glared up at the blurry image of Ren. “I built the Order. It’s an extension of myself. You think you’re safe, but it will crumble beneath your rule, and when it goes down, you’ll go down with it. Without the Order, without me, you’re nothing more than a boy playing at being a magician. You may be powerful, Kylo Ren, but you’re not invincible. In the end, you’ll be your own demise. I don’t have to fight you at all.”

  
Ren sneered. “The universe will remember you as a failure,” he said, lifting his lightsaber, “if they care to remember you at all.”

  
Hux closed his eyes as the lightsaber swung down at his neck, a billion jumbled thoughts racing through his head. Spring rains on Arkanis. Violin lessons with his mother. Brendol beating him with his belt. His first day of the Academy. Meeting Cellyk. His first confirmed kill. Graduating at the top of his class. His father’s funeral. His first meeting with Snoke, the fear and pride he felt. His promotion to General. Being put in command of the Finalizer. His first meeting with Kylo Ren. The immediate dislike he felt for the man. Staying up for days on end designing the schematics for the Starkiller. It’s two year long construction. His speech on the day it fired. Obliterating an entire system of planets in a matter of seconds. The Resistance attacking. Pulling Ren’s body off the crumbling surface of an imploding planet. Snoke’s frail body lying on the floor, his head decapitated, Ren passed out in the wreckage. Not killing him when he had the chance, and this was where it led him.

  
Hux heard the lightsaber collide—it let out a sizzling hiss and a series of angry pops—but his head remained attached to his body. Confused, he opened his eyes.

  
Ren was starting down at Hux, his mouth set into a deep frown. His lightsaber was stuck in the wall just above Hux’s head, spitting quietly. Ren deactivated it and dropped his arm to his side. “You’ve surprised me,” he said. “Part of you craves death.” He slipped his lightsaber back into the holster wrapped around his thigh. “Do not mistake this as a mercy,” he said. “I will not kill you. If you wish to die, you will have to do it yourself. In the meantime, you will continue to act as my general.”

  
Hux furrowed his brow, his thoughts still reeling. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. “Sounds like an excuse to me,” he managed to get out.

  
Ren smiled cruelly. “No, General, it’s not. I can see into your mind. Part of you wants to die. Your life’s work has amounted to nothing more than a series of failures. You’re not the son your father wanted you to be, and it pains you more than any blow I could deal you. Life is a punishment for you.”

  
Hux tipped his head back and gave a hoarse laugh. “You want to talk about disappointed fathers? How’s Han Solo doing these days?”

  
Ren crouched on his knees to be at eye level with Hux. He heard the creak of Ren’s leather gloves as he balled his hands into fists. “I will not grant you the luxury of death, no matter how much you goad me, no matter how much I want to do it. I know it will be much more satisfying to watch you suffer under my rule.”

  
Hux bared his teeth at Ren, giving the impression of a smile. “So did you need something?” he asked, “or did you just come here to waste my time.”

  
Ren’s laugh was nothing more than a surprised puff of air. He stood back up. “I have a mission for you, actually.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little short so I added some more (just at the end).

Hux pushed himself back onto his feet, even as the nausea and pain from his collision with the wall threatened to knock him out. Fresh blood trickled from his nose, streaming around his mouth and down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and glared at Ren.  
“I’m not a field agent anymore,” he said. “I don’t go on missions. I’m classified as central personnel.”  
“Yes,” Ren said impatiently, “but you were a field agent before Snoke promoted you.”  
“That was almost ten years ago,” Hux said. He was surveying the room for something to press against his nose to stop the bleeding. Or at the very least to keep it from getting all over his uniform. “That line of work is no longer my prerogative.” He spotted a white cloth napkin a few feet away and reached down to pick it up.  
“A dog does not choose for himself,” Ren said,” his master does. Your prerogatives are what I say they are.”  
Hux scoffed as he pressed the cloth to his nose. Even the gentle pressure he applied made him internally wince. “A master who kicks his dog is only ensuring that he gets bitten later on,” he said.  
Ren cut a hand through the air. “I didn’t come here to speak in metaphors,” he said. “You still have the same skills you acquired from ten years ago, correct?”  
“In theory,” Hux said. He could see that he was testing Ren’s patience.  
“What do you mean: ‘in theory?’” Ren asked.  
“I mean,” Hux said, “that it’s been ten years since I’ve been in the field. Yes, I was trained, but I’m not sure how much of that training has stayed with me.”  
“Then how do we assess how much of your training has remained?”  
Hux sighed. “Basic competency tests, I suppose,” he said.  
Ren’s eye twitched. “Are you being purposefully vague?” he asked.  
“In the military,” Hux said, “there are three basic competency tests instructors use: hand to hand combat, shooting, and piloting. I would need to satisfy the basic requirements in each of those areas to be considered competent enough for field work. You’d know that if you paid attention to First Order policies.”  
Instead of lashing out like Hux expected him to, Ren only gave a succinct nod and turned around to walk out of the room. “Let’s go then,” he said.  
Hux furrowed his brow, staring at Ren’s retreating back. “Go wear?”  
Once again, Ren used the Force to open the lounge’s automatic door. “To assess your skill set,” he said, and stepped out of the room.  
At a momentary loss, Hux marched after Ren. His footsteps sent shockwaves of pain to his nose. The bright, artificial lights of the Finalizer’s hallways pierced his eyes. He felt woozy. But instead of going to the medical bay like he should have, he balled his fists and gritted his teeth and picked up his pace so he could catch up to Ren.  
“Skill tests aren’t something that can be done impromptu,” Hux said. “For one, a highly trained, certified individual needs to be present to administer the tests. And two, people need to train for months, or even years, before they’re ready for the tests.”  
“You’ve already trained for years,” Ren pointed out. “And I will be the one administering the tests.”  
For some reason, the notion of Ren watching him attempt the skills test made Hux more nauseous than he already was. “But you’re not certified,” he said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.  
Ren scoffed. “You mean that I don’t have a flimsy piece of paper that says someone else says that I’m good enough?” he asked. “I’ve practiced martial arts since the age of six. I received direct training from Snoke. And if that’s not good enough for you, it doesn’t matter. I am your Supreme Leader. You have to do what I say regardless.”  
The bud of irritation inside Hux’s chest bloomed into anger. He stopped abruptly. Ren stopped, too, and turned around. Hux threw his bloody cloth on the floor between them. It was a challenge.  
“Fine,” Hux said. “Have it your way: administer the tests. Just know that you’re an active participant in them. The instructor and the student are pitted against each other in battle simulations. I’ve seen people die during these tests.”  
Ren only rolled his eyes. “So dramatic,” he said.  
Hux closed the distance between them, so he was staring Ren squarely in the eyes. “It’s not a joke,” he said. “Before they can be sent out into the field, agents have to prove that they can perform flawlessly even under the threat of death. The good chance of you dying is just part of the tests.”  
A pause ensued after Hux said this. He hadn't realized until then just how close they were standing. He could feel Ren’s breath on his face, could see the hazel ringing his pupils. The lack of space between them made him uncomfortable, but to take a step back would somehow be losing, so he steeled himself.  
Finally, Ren broke the silence. “Are you done posturing?”  
Hux almost laughed. Did Ren think he was joking about the dangers of participating in the skills tests? Did he think they just sent anyone out in the field without first rigorously testing their capabilities? Not everyone could depend on magic powers they were born with. Some people actually had to work for the skills they acquired. Maybe this was an opportunity to teach Ren something about what it actually meant to be a member of the First Order.  
Coming to his decision, Hux said, “We need to go to the shuttle bay.”  
Ren was visibly confused. “What for?”  
“To go through the first test,” Hux said. “Agents are first tested on their piloting skills by executing a series of maneuvers in space and surviving and winning a combat scenario. And in order to test piloting skills, we need a ship. Hence, we need to go to the shuttle bay.”  
“Why wouldn’t we just test piloting skills in the simulation chamber?” Ren asked. “It’s more efficient than taking out an entire ship.”  
Hux threw his hands up in the air. “Were you even listening to me?” he demanded. “An intrinsic part of the skills tests for field agents is the real threat of death. You can’t achieve that in a simulation chamber.”  
Ren considered this. “Fine,” he said. He turned back around and started walking again. “We’ll go to the shuttle bay.”

\-------------------------------------

The shuttle bay was the busiest place aboard the Finalizer. It was in a constant state of action, with ‘troopers running practice drills around the perimeter, shuttles zooming in and out, and weapons being transported. The ceiling towered at least ten stories high and the floor spanned the entirety of five city blocks. Two of the massive walls were made of glass, offering a panoramic view of the stars. 

The docked shuttles were parked in the far eastern quadrant, next to the shuttle bay’s exit gate. Hux and Ren had to navigate a chaotic web of people and machines to get there. It was like being in the center of a giant anthill. The officers scurried about on well known paths, in perfect synchronicity, so as not to cause confusion or accidents. Hux and Ren did not know these paths. They often had to duck beneath transport droids or jump out of the way of fast clipped buggies at the last minute.

Many of the officers they passed expressed visible shock at seeing Hux and Ren. If Hux wasn’t so annoyed, he might have been amused by their stricken faces. Their eyes bulged out of their heads and their jaws dropped as if a hinge had been released. One poor fool had been so intent on his datapad that he actually ran into Ren. When he looked up and came nose to nose with his new Supreme Leader, his face turned white and a mousy squeak burst from his mouth. He dropped his datapad by accident and it clattered to the ground.

Hux was expecting an outburst of some sort from Ren, but all he did was pick up the datapad and hand it back to the officer before brushing past him. The officer looked about ready to faint. In his mind, he probably just survived a near death experience. 

When they finally reached the rows of docked shuttles, Hux stopped. So did all of the workers who were doing maintenance on them. They froze like mice caught in the gaze of a hawk, waiting to see if they would be eaten. 

“Carry on,” Hux told them. 

The workers sprang back into action, working twice as fast as before and keeping their eyes glued to their hands. 

Hux turned to Ren. “Pick your ship,” he said. 

Ren surveyed the lines. “Does it matter which one?” he asked.

Hux shook his head. “All that matters is that you’re confident in your ability to fly it.”

After a few more seconds of deliberation, Ren marched off without another word, disappearing among the rows. Hux watched him go before he focused on his own task of finding a ship. It would have to be well matched against Ren’s. The question was, which ship was Ren likely to pick? It would likely reflect Ren’s style of fighting, which was usually brutal and tactless. Perhaps a TIE assault shuttle, then. That meant Hux would have to counter with something light weight and speedy to out maneuver Ren. Strategy over force. 

With this in mind, Hux marched down the front of the line, to the very end, where they kept their small fleet of TIE Barons. Their crimson paint made them easy to find. Usually Hux liked to fly ships with a little more damage control, but Barons were notorious for their speed and accuracy. Barons were equipped with four solar collector wings and twin ion engines, making them not only fast but long lasting. They were also armed with four wing-mounted laser cannons and two mag-pulse warhead launchers. Needless to say, Barons carried a punch. 

Hux picked a Baron and shrugged out of his jacket and tunic, leaving him in his undershirt. Mobility was an important part of flying; you couldn’t fly in a stiff uniform. Then he pulled himself on top of the wing and climbed to the entrance of the cockpit, lowering himself with practiced ease. When he sat down in the pilot’s chair, he let his fingers run over the control panel. It’d been years since he last flew, but it was basically muscle memory to him. The hundreds of buttons and switches and blinking lights and conspicuous throttles were like a second language.

Hux strapped himself into his harness and put on his headset. He flipped the switch on the side to turn his comm on. It crackled to life.

“What now, General?” Ren asked over the headset. Hux hated having Ren’s voice in his ear. It made his skin prickle. 

“Now,” Hux said, checking the Baron’s diagnostics, “we go out and shoot at each other.” 

The Baron seemed to be in perfect condition. Her oxygen levels were stable, she had plenty of ammunition, and her fuel cell was full. Hux powered her up. She rumbled to life beneath him; he felt the vibrations in his bones. After double checking the diagnostics, Hux gripped the steering wheel and gently lifted the Baron off the ground. She purred as she rose in the air. When Hux cleared the mandatory 70 feet, he turned her around to face the exit gate. Then he paused, waiting for Ren. 

When Hux saw the ship Ren chose, his heart faltered a bit. Rising below him was not the assault shuttle he had expected. Instead, what was coming closer to him was a TIE Interceptor, a highly advanced TIE fighter with incredible stealth capabilities. It was an unusual choice, given that they were usually used for undercover missions, not battle, but Hux could see the value in sneaking up on the enemy. 

As Ren lined his ship up behind Hux’s so they could go through the exit gate, Hux’s mind was computing odds and new strategies. Given that their ships were equally matched in speed and agility, it now depended entirely on who was the better pilot. 

The exit gate began to slowly open, revealing the infinite vastness of space. Hux tried to quiet his mind. It was imperative to be calm before a battle. He focused on his breathing, listening to the way it entered and left his body until it was time to fly the Baron forward. 

Out in the reaches of space, Hux piloted the Baron away from the Finalizer. Ren followed close behind. Hux took this opportunity to briefly explain the rules of the test. 

“First of all,” Hux said into his headset, “this is not a simulation. We’re in real ships using real ammunition. I’m going to attempt to board the Finalizer. It’s your job to do whatever you can to keep me from reaching that goal. Nothing is off limits. Use every tactic at your disposal. I will do the same. If I manage to board the Finalizer despite your efforts, that means I pass the test.”

“Seems simple enough,” Ren said. 

“As part of the test,” Hux continued, “I will also be trying to take down your ship. Agents can boost their overall test score by not only reaching their goal but by also taking down the enemy in the process.”

“Did you make up that up just now so that you could shoot at me?” Ren asked. 

Hux scoffed. “Why would I ever want to shoot at you, Supreme Leader?” he asked. “It’s not like it would be incredibly therapeutic or immensely satisfying.” 

Figuring that they were far enough away from the Finalizer to make it a challenge, Hux stopped the Baron and turned her around to face Ren’s Interceptor. The two ships were less than a hundred feet apart. 

“Once the test begins,” Hux said, “it doesn’t end until A. I reach my goal, B. You shoot me out of the sky, or C. Our ships incur so much damage that they’re no longer able to fly.”

“Yes, yes,” Ren said,” just get on with it.” 

Hux smiled. He might actually enjoy this. There was no doubt in Hux’s mind that Ren was severely underestimating Hux’s skill. It would do his mental health some good to aim a gun at Ren and fire it...repeatedly.


End file.
